


A Rose for Boothby

by DeltaS



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Post-Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-22 00:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7410718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeltaS/pseuds/DeltaS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Endgame.</p>
<p>Even after he's gone, this Starfleet Academy icon still influences lives. (A fictional tribute to the ST character, Boothby, and actor who portrayed him, Ray Walston)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rose for Boothby

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted in January 2001, following the death of actor Ray Walston on January 1, 2001

~*~

 

The misty curtain of early morning fog hid his vision for more than a few meters in front of him, so it was a sudden surprise to see the silhouette appear in the grayness ahead. He smiled as he recognized the shadowy outline – it was Kathryn, of course; he should have known that she would be here. With steps as hushed and peaceful as the fog, he crept up behind her, encircling her with his arms.

The form of the small woman jerked, her shocked face turning to see who had invaded her reverie and personal space. "Chakotay!" she sighed, her face quickly becoming soft and smiling with recognition, her body relaxing into his comforting embrace.

He smiled down at her. "I figured that you’d be coming here, too; I just didn’t think you would venture out so early in the day."

"I wanted to be alone with him for awhile, before a sea of people swamped the area," she murmured, her voice low and reverent. "When I heard the news yesterday, it took me by surprise. He was… he was the one person who I thought would go on forever…"

The fog was thinning out, allowing faint, grayish pastel hues to sneak through the narrow slits in its cover, giving a blushed patina to the surroundings. Outlines of a small circular garden began materializing out of the miasma, a narrow path bisecting it like a shadow on a sundial. The pivotal point inside the circle was a rounded piece of granite, about thirty centimeters across its flattened surface, the dappled pinks and purples and grays of the rock forming a background for a small brass plaque.

"Perhaps that’s why no one told us prior to our arrival; they figured that his presence… his spirit… was so all encompassing, that surely we knew."

She reached up a hand, not even trying to hide the fact that she was wiping her nose. As her face became more visible, he saw eyes that were red and swollen, with glazed tracks of dried tears staining her cheeks. "I don’t think there was a single person who had been at the Academy anytime over the last sixty years that didn’t know him… or gain from his words of wisdom."

Unconscious of their action, his fingers began a gentle circling rub of her shoulder, attempting to ease some of the tension out of her. "He certainly came to my rescue more than once. Did I ever tell you about the time that he beat me up?"

"Beat **_you_** up?" she gasped, horrified. "Sweet little old Boothby?"

He laughed quietly. "Yep; there was no other word for it – he whacked me pretty good – sweet little old Boothby! It was my third year – I was once more toying with whether I was really doing the right thing sticking it out here at the Academy…"

"Who didn’t think that… at least three or four times a month?" she interrupted with a knowing chuckle.

He moved his fingers along the long muscles to her neck, as she leaned back into their gentle massage. "Well, I knew that if I said anything more to my father that he’d probably stop listening to me altogether. Anyway, it was towards the end of the first term, and I was close to failing quantum mechanics. Everything else was fine, except that silly theoretical hokum…"

She cleared her throat and shot him a threatening glare.

His smile gleamed, knowing that he’d hit her ‘hot button’. "Anyway, I had really primed myself into thinking that failure was the only option… and that, if I failed this one, there was no way I’d ever make it through. I’d just switched over to the command path, and really starting to question the simplest of my capabilities… you know, just feeling sorry for myself – not exactly the best profile for a future leader in Starfleet!   Well, here I was, lost in my own little world, not paying attention to where I was walking, and I literally stumbled over Boothby – he was on his hands and knees, planting some geraniums or something along a sidewalk, by some bushes. The bushes hid his slight form from eyes that weren’t looking for it. I guess I must have been almost running, because I hit him full force; rounded up in a compact little mass, he was as solid as the rock here," he said, motioning his head to the memorial within the circle.

"He was unfazed by the collision, while I, being a tall lumbering clod, went tumbling down onto the sidewalk, uttering a few chosen not so officer-and-gentleman-like words in doing so. He calmly turned his head to me and said, ‘Something bothering you, son?’ I pulled myself together and at least had the presence to help him get up, too. I managed to utter a few words of an apology; but I guess they didn’t sound sincere enough to him. ‘What’s that? So much into yourself that you can’t be civil?’ he grunted. ‘Maybe you need a little sense beaten into your head.’

"I must have given him a look that said ‘you and what Klingon squadron, you silly old geezer?’ because the next thing I knew, he had landed a big sucker punch – right into my pathetic midsection."

Kathryn looked aghast. "He **_hit_** you? Why… I find that hard to believe! And that was definitely against all Starfleet protocol…"

Chakotay’s laugh calmed her. Pulling her close again, he continued. "Yeah, well it surprised the heck out of me, too. By the time I could catch my breath, he had backed up and was poised to let go with another punch, this one aimed a little bit higher. I put my hands and arms out in defense of his threatened second attack when he resumed a normal stance. I muttered a few sentences about my dilemma and doubts and that’s when he made his proposal. ‘Son, you know what your problem is? You’ve got too many cobwebs inside that head of yours. I’ve seen it before, and I’ll probably see it again. What you’ve got to do is learn how to clean ‘em all out so there’s enough room to fill up all that brainspace with what really is needed. And I just might be able to help you.’

"The next thing I knew, I’d agreed to meet him at the Academy gym a couple of hours later… and that’s how I began to learn how to box… and realize that it was far from a ruthless activity, but one that developed character and discipline, and cleansed the body physically and mentally…"

Kathryn pulled away in mild disgust. "Humph. That’s what you say. I still don’t approve of…"

He shook his head, grinning. "Well, to each his own. But I **_did_** pass quantum mechanics and learned to handle myself better, both physically and emotionally.   I feel that I owe a lot of what I’ve become to Boothby’s lessons." He took her hands in-between his, rubbing his thumbs in small circles across hers. "So, Kathryn… what’s your Boothby story? Why have you come to pay him homage?"

She slipped her hands out from his and reached over to a nearby rose bush, it branches heavy and lush with dark peach-colored blossoms. She plucked a rose in full bloom from its abundant display and lovingly raised it to her nose, taking in its spicy sweet fragrance. Slowly she walked over to a small bench to the side of the circle, silently inviting Chakotay to follow her. He sat down in the space she obviously had left for him next to her.

She studied the rose in her hands and then tenderly placed it across her lap. Suddenly, her body stiffened, as if girding itself for a physical blow as solid and real as the one Boothby had sprung on the man beside her. "He once gave me a rose," she began simply. "It was such a small gesture, but it’s something I will never forget."

Her eyes took on a distant haze, traveling back long years ago. "I had just come back to Starfleet headquarters after my… um… self-imposed exile following the deaths of Justin and my father. I knew that I was where I should be, but it was as if my body was there but everything mental and emotional was lost deep within a faraway void in space. I had no anchor; even talks with Admiral Paris didn’t seem to excite me… or the prospects of a new assignment with a new ship and crew. And… it seemed like everyone was being just **_too_** nice."

She looked over at him, shaking her head. "Why is it that people think when you have lost a loved one that you don’t want to talk about the person? I’ve seen it time and again, even on Voyager when we lost crewmen. All that pussyfooting around, treating you with kid gloves. Yes; it hurts; but it hurts less if you can talk about it. It was Phoebe’s blunt honesty that at least got me going again; but when I got back to Starfleet, all these people with all their experience… and not ever having learned from it…"

She shook her head again, regaining her little smile of earlier.   "Sorry; I’m digressing. Boothby… ah, yes! Dear Boothby. He knew everything about everyone, didn’t he? And he never forgot anything, either. Why, if I didn’t know better, I would think he was as much an android as Commander Data! Anyway, one day shortly after I got back, I was vacuously heading somewhere, and decided to take a short cut through some of his precious rose bushes. Of course, I managed to snag my uniform and then my hands on them, and he appeared out of nowhere, immediately chastising me in that irascible tone of his. ‘And just what do you think you’re doing, missy? You know better than to come through this area. Serves you right, getting caught in all those nasty thorns – it’s their way of letting you know you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing.’ He was muttering all of this as he helped me get un-snagged, mind you. Fussing like a little old maiden aunt, yet gently trying to preserve my clothing and hands. ‘Kathryn Janeway, I know that your father would not approve of your breaking grounds rules,’ he continued, daring to mention my father to me.

"I was startled. ‘You know my name? And who my father is… was?’ I responded in surprise. ‘And just why shouldn’t I?’ he answered.   ‘I remember you when your father used to bring you here when you were no taller than that barberry bush over there,’ he said, pointing to the rounded bush that he had been trimming. ‘I remember you during your Academy days, too – always the serious one, as I recall, hardly making any time for social activities.’ He resumed his work, turning his back to me, but continued talking. ‘And I heard what happened to you on that planet in the Tau Ceti system; you are one lucky young woman to have survived.’

" _Me, survive_? I thought _. I might as well have died on that planet with my father and Justin; my whole world died for me that day!_ My words slashed out at him, all my residual hurt… and guilt… aimed at his seemingly callous remarks, my voice filled with the vilest of venom. ‘How can you dare say that? Don’t you know that the two most important people in my life died there? I should have died there, too. I don’t deserve to go on with them gone.’ My eyes were hot with tears and my cheeks were burning, even though it was a cold day. ‘Don’t you have any respect for the dead?’ I continued.

"He calmly continued his pruning. ‘Of course I do… and so should you.’ I was nearly exploding by now. ‘What do you mean? I’ve done nothing but cry and miss them for almost six months now; nothing can bring them back… and I’ve got to go on.’ "

" ‘That’s right,’ he nodded. ‘And that’s the way it should be.’ He straightened up from his work position and, even with his short stature, he looked me dead in the eyes. ‘It’s very much up to you to go on living and carry out their legacy; haven’t you learned that yet? Why, I never thought I’d see Kathryn Janeway burbling over what should have been… what could have been… if only. That little one… that young cadet… this experienced woman in front of me now… has always had a ton a vinegar and spit inside, enough to tear through the front line offensive of a Cardassian invasion, if need be. Ensign Janeway, you survived because you have a lot of life left, and a lot of skills and compassion to share with others. And you have inherited the same from Admiral Janeway and Lt. Tighe. Don’t let your inheritance from them wither away and die just because they are gone. Carry what they have given to you with honor and pride. Added to your own talents, I have no doubt that the combined results will produce a fine Starfleet officer of whom they both will be more than proud.’ He turned back to his plants.

"His words stung and hurt, much worse than the rose thorns had earlier; they snagged at the deepest and most vulnerable parts of me. But he was so correct; I had to go on. My existence was a reminder that the human spirit could not… and would not… be killed, even in the face of great personal grief. I stood there frozen in my silence… yes, before you say anything, I **_can_** be silent at rare times… allowing his truthful chastisement to do its thing. ‘But it hurts so much,’ I finally whimpered.

" ‘Yes, I’m know it does, and it will for a long time. Why do you think you should be any different from anyone else who has ever lost someone they loved?’ The tone of his voice left no doubt that, for all Boothby knew about all of us, we knew precious little about him… except that he lived alone, and that no one had ever heard him mention any relatives of any kind. I must have gasped with this self-revelation, for he turned and looked at me. His eyes told me all I needed to know – that he knew of what he was speaking; that somewhere in his many years, he, too, had suffered a loss or losses much greater than any of us could begin to imagine.

Her eyes became misty with her memories of that day, and her shoulders began shaking.   Chakotay pulled her close to him, cradling her small form. "I had often wondered about him…" he whispered softly into her hair.

She became lost within his embrace, allowing his strength to give her what she needed to finish her story. "It was as if we held no secrets from each other; that we understood perfectly the depths of each other’s wounds. Our silence seemed to stop time; we were together as one at the edge of the universe.

"We rejoined our real world when he took his pruning scissors and clipped off one of his precious roses and he handed it to me. ‘Kathryn Janeway, may your life be like this rose, giving light and life and color to all you meet. But don’t ever let anyone forget about the thorns, either, for life always comes with its hardships… and we must be ready to accept the thorns as well as the flowers; it takes both to make up the healthy plant. May you live long and prosper.’

"He didn’t say anything more; he just went back to his work. That rose suddenly became the most important thing in my life. Even long after it faded, its dried form reminded me of what I knew I must do.   I haven’t seen a rose since that I haven’t been reminded of his words. And anytime I saw him after that riveting day, he always asked how his ‘rose’ was doing."

The bright terran sun broke through the remaining thin mist. Janeway got up and slowly walked over to the stone centering the circle. Leaning down, she placed the wilting rose beside the plaque attached to it, her fingers slowly caressing the raised letters on its surface. "For you, Boothby," she said softly. "For you, who never failed to tend your garden, whether it was of roses or wildflowers… frightened cadets or grieving ensigns; callused captains or wearied admirals. Your spirit lives on forever in the lives of all you ever touched; we will never forget you."

She sighed and reached up, taking the hand that Chakotay held out for her, allowing him to help her up. A moment later, she slowly pulled it away, brushing her hands briskly across her uniform, patting her hair into place, whisking away the last residual tears. "I’ve got to appear before the review board in thirty minutes; he would want me to be presentable, wouldn’t he?" she smiled at her companion.

"Always," he smiled back, taking her arm and placing it through his, patting her reassuringly and kissing the top of her head, her soft hair radiant and warm in the early sun.

She leaned into him, her head cushioned by his upper arm.   "Something tells me that he’s still passing along advice… about a new path that my life might be taking…"

He stopped and turned to her. "What… what new path?" he asked, his eyes suddenly fearful.

For every flash of dread in his eyes, hers reflected back gleams of hope. "One upon which we both can travel… for a very long time." She reached up and took his face in her hands, slowly and deliberately lowering it to meet hers. Her lips, salty from her tears of earlier, touched his lips ever so briefly, but then whispered a proposal for something not so brief. "One we can share forever," she said, oblivious to the growing number of curious, smiling pedestrians passing by.

**In Memorium**

**Raymond W. Boothby**

**b. 2290 ~*~ d. 2376**

**_Nurturer of Plants and People_ **

**_Pax Eterna_ **


End file.
